


and more

by arthurslegacy (scisaacugh)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magic Revealed, Trans Character, hmm i don't like that ao3 capitalised shit in my tags but what can u do u know, trans Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 17:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13172019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scisaacugh/pseuds/arthurslegacy
Summary: Merlin left Ealdor because it was holding him back. Now he grows into himself.





	and more

**Author's Note:**

> this took a month 2 write and it's all over the place lmao but it means a lot to me cause i'm a trans man and i hashtag Relate to merlin a lot so. here we are. i don't know if being trans was even a concept back then, nor do i know much abt gender roles pre-18th century, but this is historical fantasy so fuck it
> 
> also i'm dedicated 2 my work so i dredged up some bad memories for this lol it's all pretty real man
> 
> ALSO i wrote most of this on my phone and i tried to reread the whole thing a few times but i might've missed something cause i can't focus on anything

Ealdor is holding him back in more ways than one. Of course, his mother’s main concern is the magic, but for Merlin, it’s more than that. Here, he can’t be Merlin, and it’s not just part of the _I don’t know how to be who I really am_ phase all kids go through; he literally can’t be _Merlin_.

When he was young, it didn’t matter. In places like Ealdor, little is expected of young girls, so he was free to play with the boys whenever he wished. Until he got to the age at which people began to disapprove of his masculinity, pronouns were no bother, but then— _then_. His mum stopped letting him play with the boys (except for Will, of course; Will was the exception to everything), and the village mothers wanted to set him up with their sons and they gave him dresses and the men no longer accepted his help with _men’s work_ and suddenly, every _she_ directed his way grated at his ears until it was all he could think about. 

Magic is legal, though often regarded with suspicion, in Ealdor, so he would have been fine if he _could have just been a girl_. He tried, he really tried so hard, but as he’ll come to learn, trying means nothing in the face of destiny.

  
—•—

 

When he first meets Arthur Pendragon, he isn’t the least bit impressed. Camelot’s prince is stunningly golden, sure, but he’s a prat, a complete and total ass. Merlin thinks that first interaction will be the last, but destiny doesn’t give a shit about Merlin’s thoughts and wants.

Gaius is patching him up now. Merlin’s skin crawls every time he’s shirtless, even now that he’s found the perfect combination of cloth and magic to make himself look like other men, and every second he’s exposed seems like a lifetime. He had hoped these feelings would stay behind in Ealdor, but it seems he was wrong. At least Gaius doesn’t question him.

 

—•—

 

At some point Merlin goes from being the prince’s manservant to being _Arthur’s_ manservant. He doesn’t notice the change until it’s already happened, and suddenly Merlin considers him his best friend. They share private jokes at dinners and on missions, and Arthur pretends to hate Merlin’s advice (advice he secretly treasures; he trusts Merlin above all others), and Merlin finds that without his noticing, his heart softened towards this arrogant, golden prince.

All in all, life in Camelot hasn’t gotten easier, but he can work with that. Here, he’s Merlin and he’s a man and no one questions that (he’s made sure they can’t). He’s more himself than he’s ever been; although he has to hide his magic, at least he gets to use it and to strengthen it. He’s _him_ and _Merlin_. This is all he’s ever wanted and more. (More – Arthur.)

  
—•—

 

“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin.”

Merlin winces, stops polishing Arthur’s armour for a moment, and decides not to reply. Of course, though, Arthur can never just leave things be.

“What, that’s what angers you? Looks like I can stop throwing things at you; all I have to do is call you a girl!” Arthur taunts, misreading Merlin’s reaction as usual.

Merlin only hums in response, not trusting his voice. He’s not a girl he’s never been a girl he’s _not_ , he can’t even hear that, not after all his hard work—

The prince swats his shoulder. “No witty responses for me today? Come on, Merlin, I expected more from you.”

Why did Arthur choose _now_ to be so damn annoying? Usually he stuck to throwing things and being generally childish. Not that those things weren’t annoying, but still. This is different.

“Perhaps if you found a more original insult, my lord…” Merlin trails off with a shrug.

“I’ll have you know I am the prince of Camelot _and_ of eloquence!” Arthur cries, reaching for a pillow.

  
—•—

 

When Gwen, Morgana, and Arthur follow him to Ealdor, he’s terrified. Many of the villagers never accepted that he wasn’t the girl they thought him to be, and just one slip could ruin everything for him. Somehow, though, nothing goes wrong. His mother embraces him warmly, speaks of him like he’s always been her son, and although the villagers whisper about him, they say nothing… _harmful_ while Arthur is within hearing distance.

Naturally, Arthur is the one who stirs things up. Gwen and Morgana demand that he let the women fight alongside the men; after all, this is their home as well. But Arthur is stubborn, and at this point, Merlin is getting frustrated with him too. He says nothing, afraid he’ll somehow give himself away, or that a neighbour will choose now to speak up about him. They’ve given no indication that they still strongly disapprove of him, but he remains on edge nonetheless. He knows they’ll never completely come around, and the tension between all of them is rising. 

Merlin’s discomfort grows every time Arthur insists it’s too dangerous for the women to fight. If he told Arthur the truth, he would never see him the same way again. He already calls him a girl all the time.

Will is as annoying as ever, and Merlin realises now just how much he’s missed his best friend. Still, he’s frustrated. As expected, Will has made his way to Merlin’s house and is railing against Arthur and “his kind,” refusing to listen to Merlin’s protests that _he’s a good man, Will!_  

“He’s letting you fight,” Will says, “so I guess that means you haven’t told him.” 

Merlin cringes. That was a step too far. “Really, Will?”

Will realises his mistake as soon as he sees the look on Merlin’s face, and he backtracks so fast he nearly trips over his own words. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just— do you really think he’d see you the same way? That’s not how he is, Merlin. You know it. That’s why you haven’t told him you were… you know.”

“‘You know,’” Merlin echos. “I don’t want to have this conversation again, so just let it go.” On his way out he runs into Gwen, and he can only hope she didn’t overhear them. For once, he’s too frustrated for the shame to set in and swallow him whole.

  
—•—

 

Arthur is crowned king, and Merlin knows he’ll love him forever. At first he can’t even shout along with the crowd, because the feelings hit him all at once and it’s so much more than he’s ever felt before. Energy surges through him and _then_ he’s shouting “long live the king,” because he _loves_ Arthur, loves him beyond destiny and anything he’s ever known. It’s too much for a moment, but by now he’s learned to connect with himself and to let emotions wash over him instead of away from him, so then it’s calm and everything is a little sharper, a little more in focus. Destiny doesn’t explain this; this explains destiny.

  
—•—

 

Lancelot has known about Merlin’s magic for ages, and he accepted him right away, no questions asked. One night it’s just the two of them, and when their conversation turns to their childhoods, he learns another secret. 

“Mum stopped letting me play with the other boys,” Merlin mumbles gloomily. In the morning he’ll blame it on the ale.

“Why not?” Lancelot looks so genuinely worried that Merlin can’t help but laugh.

“They all thought I was a _girl_! But they were wrong. Never was a girl. Tried it ‘cause I was supposed to be one, but I couldn’t do it. Y’know?”

Lancelot nods seriously, too seriously, and all of a sudden Merlin feels nothing but shame. It claws at his chest and burns him there. “Need to go,” he says, but Lance places a hand on his shoulder when he tries to stand. “Don’t tell Arthur.” He’s arguably the most powerful sorcerer on earth, and he’s fine with that, and yet he can’t accept that he’s a man (that is, a different kind of man, different from Lancelot and Arthur). That could be funny. Someday.

“I won’t, but it’s all right, Merlin. It doesn’t bother me.” He seems less drunk now, and his eyes are so warm and kind that Merlin only feels worse. He never wants to talk about it again, he needs to go _now_ , right now, he needs to walk away and leave the shame behind. So he does. He says good night and then he’s gone, but the feeling follows him all the way to his room. It followed him from Ealdor, too; it’s lived in his bones for years.

  
—•—

 

The last thing Merlin expects is that Arthur will kiss him, and even if he had thought there was a chance his feelings could _possibly_ be reciprocated, he certainly wouldn’t expect Arthur to act on them when they weren’t even in mortal danger. Merlin has just finished clearing off the dining table and has now set to drying Arthur’s clothes by the fire (the dumbass insisted on going out in the rain earlier. For what purpose, Merlin has no idea) when he senses the king’s presence right behind him.

“Honestly, Arthur, it’s like you try to make my life difficult,” he says. He doesn’t get a reply, so he just drops the boots and turns around. “Arthur?”

Arthur is just standing there, biting his lip, brows furrowed, and Merlin tries not to think of how cute he looks like that.

“What is—”

He’s cut off by Arthur’s lips, which, against all odds, are pressed against his. Merlin finds himself kissing back immediately, his hands coming up to stroke Arthur’s face. He feels like his entire body is melting, though that could just be an effect of the fire directly behind him. (Probably not.) He’s thoroughly enjoying being so close to the love of his entire life after years of pining, but then thoughts of his magic creep in from the back of his mind.

Merlin pulls away suddenly, gasping, “I can’t.” He takes a step back, dangerously close to the fire.

Arthur blinks a few times, face flushed and blank. “What?”

“I can’t,” Merlin says again, then realises he should explain. “There are things you don’t know.”

Arthur blinks some more and seems to come back to himself, brows furrowing in that cute, contemplative again. “What could possibly be so important that you had to ruin the moment? Nothing, Merlin, that’s what,” he says as he tries to close the space between them again.

Merlin puts up a warning hand, his bones aching with the need to have Arthur close again. But he can’t, not with all the secrets keeping them apart, and all of a sudden he’s so, so tired. All these years of lying seem to weigh down on his shoulders at this moment, to settle in his chest and leave no room for air, and for a moment all he can do is shake his head. “You need to know first.”

“Spit it out then,” Arthur growls, though he takes a few steps back to give Merlin some breathing room.

 _Why does it have to be now?_ Merlin wonders, wishing now more than ever that he had just gotten this over with long ago. It hasn’t been time, though. Maybe it still isn’t, but here, with Arthur so warm and real and just out of reach and Merlin’s secrets heavier than they’ve ever been, he can’t imagine he’ll ever—

“I have magic.” He has to force the words out, so much so that it’s as if someone has spoken them for him. Nothing has ever felt so surreal.

Arthur’s heavy gaze darkens, and he looks down but doesn’t dismiss Merlin. “If you don’t want me, you only had to tell me so. You know I won’t force you.”

Oh. Merlin really should have seen that coming. “No, Arthur, I— gods, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything, it’s not that.” 

“Then why would you say that? Enlighten me, Merlin,” he yells, seeming to grow angry, but Merlin knows he’s just hurt and confused.

“Look,” he says softly, turning to the fire. He lifts his shaking hands and whispers a spell that draws the flames into the shape of a dragon. Hesitantly he looks back to Arthur, who in turn is giving him a look he’s never seen before. Merlin searches for fear, and maybe there’s some buried beneath the look of utter betrayal and _whatever else_ , but thankfully, he can’t find it.

At least Arthur isn’t afraid when he orders him to leave.

  
—•—

 

Merlin feels he lacks control of his own body as he changes into his sleep clothes. His limbs are loose, just barely managing to perform, but somehow he changes and to climbs into bed. He curls into himself as tightly as he can, arms hugging his legs, and he sleeps fitfully like this.

By morning, no knights have come to collect him, but he also hasn’t heard from Arthur. Is he meant to pretend the previous night never happened? Normally that wouldn’t surprise him, but surely this is too serious to ignore.

He gets his answer when Arthur barges in without bothering to knock. “You’re late!” is all he says before he exits as abruptly as he entered, leaving Merlin even more confused than he was before.

He readies himself for the day then sets off for Arthur’s chambers, still shaky from last night’s conversation. Part of him wishes he’d just kept his secret to himself like he’d gotten so used to doing,  but when he looks past the fear and discomfort he knows it was the right thing to do. Things had to change eventually, and Merlin isn’t sure he could have gone on like that for much longer. Certainly their relationship could not have progressed with such a secret keeping them from a healthy relationship.

Merlin can’t bring himself to greet Arthur with a cheery “good morning” for once. This is different from all his other difficult mornings, and this time he can’t bring himself to fake anything, not anymore. Besides, it wouldn’t be right.

“Explain yourself,” Arthur says almost immediately. Merlin studies his face and finds no hints towards how he might be feeling. “Why did you never tell me?” 

A small, bitter laugh escapes under his breath. He doesn’t blame Arthur, he never could, but that doesn’t mean the last decade had been a walk through the park. “I couldn’t. It would have ruined everything.”

“Why now, then? Suddenly you’re willing to ruin everything?” 

“I told you I want you, and I meant it. But I couldn’t be with you until you knew the truth. It wouldn’t be right.” Merlin itches to move as he speaks, to begin his daily duties, but he won’t give in to the uneasiness. He stays where he is, looks Arthur in the eye as he speaks; this conversation is too important. He can’t risk Arthur misunderstanding any part of it. “I use my magic for you, only for you. I believe in the kingdom you wish to build. All I’ve ever wanted is to stand by you as you become the greatest king Camelot will ever know.”

At this point Arthur only looks frustrated. He wants to understand, Merlin supposes, but does not. “You could have just taken the crown from me and built the kingdom yourself. Morgana wanted to, so why not you, too?”

Merlin’s heart aches. Arthur has been betrayed so many times, and now it’s happened again. He wishes so badly that he could have been honest from the beginning, but that’s not worth dwelling on now. “Because I believe in _you_ , Arthur. It’s always been you.”

His face softens just barely, but Merlin doesn’t miss it. He continues when Arthur says nothing. “I don’t care about the power. That’s not why I do this.” The _I love you_ remains unspoken; this isn’t the right time. He hopes Arthur can read between the lines, figure it out himself.

“You love me,” Arthur says slowly, unsurely. More emotions have begun to show, but Merlin still can’t read any of them.

“Yes,” he says firmly. Arthur needs to know, he _has_ _to_.

“And your magic… you’ve practiced this entire time?”

There, they’re really getting somewhere! “It’s not exactly that I practice. I was born with it, and I’ve been using it since before I could even walk. I didn’t really have a choice.”

“Oh,” Arthur says softly, so softly it’s almost a whisper. “And you’ve been in Camelot… Merlin, you idiot, you could’ve gotten caught!”

He grins now, much more relaxed but still a bit on edge. “Safer than Ealdor ever was.”

“That’s why you left, then? You told me once you left because you didn’t fit in.”

Merlin’s smile falls. “Sort of.” He moves to sit on the edge of Arthur’s bed before continuing. “People there are suspicious of magic, sure, but it’s not outlawed, and they respect my mother. It’s… something else.”

Arthur groans. “You mean to tell me there’s more?”

“Sorry?” He tries to smile again, but it’s a bit too shaky to seem real. Revealing his magic was one thing, but this secret, this is another kind of difficult. Merlin’s magic always felt so natural, and despite his constant fear of getting caught, it was comforting. While he’d always loved his connection to the earth, he could never bring himself to love this other part of himself. It is him, and yet it does not feel natural, not in the way his magic does.

“Go on, out with it then,” Arthur urges, impatient despite everything. Merlin lets out a small huff of laughter, but the discomfort returns right away.

“They thought I was a girl. That is, my mother raised me to be a girl?” Merlin cringes. Years and years later he still hasn’t gotten any better at explaining it.

Arthur just looks confused. “So you’re a girl, then.”

“No, no! Gods, no,” Merlin says frantically, jumping up from the bed. “I mean, I was, but it was never right. It wasn’t… right,” he says again. “Surely you’ve heard of this before. You grew up in the city. You’re the king, for fuck’s sake.”

Arthur frowns, though it looks more like a pout. Can’t he be serious? “Do not snap at me, _Mer_ lin. I _am_ the king, as you just acknowledged.”

He can’t stay still anymore, so he sits back down and puts his head in his hands for a moment. He hates this part of himself; he knows it’s unnatural, and he tried so hard just to be normal, but no amount of taunts or shame could make him a girl. It just wasn’t meant to be, and someday he would come to terms with that, but that day seemed far away.

He feels the bed dip beside him and looks up as Arthur speaks. “I believe I do understand, Merlin. There was a girl like you in the town when I was young. Everyone accepted that she wasn’t the boy her parents once believed her to be. My father never knew we were friends; he thought all my friends had connections to our family. She was a good kid, though; I wonder how she turned out.”

For a second, all Merlin can do is stare. Arthur had spoken in his normal, kingly voice, and yet there was something soft and kind in his words, even in his face. In that moment Merlin feels safer than he ever has. When Arthur leans down to kiss him, he notices that the weight he’s carried upon his shoulders for so long is finally gone. Things aren’t perfect, and the shame will return eventually, but at least he no longer has to wallow in it. Arthur doesn’t hate him, and he knows now that he will be here forever. This is all he’s ever wanted and more.


End file.
